Home Still Smells Like Honey and Drugs
by Phantasmik
Summary: For Sora. It is all for Sora. RikuSora, RikuRoxas-


Home still smells like Honey and Drugs

XxX

_Drip drip drip._

_He tosses his head in annoyance, glaring at the weeping sky. The pitter patter of rain slapping against glass and the keens of the heartless below him are all so troublesome. But alas, it is necessary for him to endure the aggravation that stems from soaked hair and a waterlogged cloak. _

_The keyblades are clashing somewhere below him, metallic screams echoing through the night and melding together with the screams and whimpers the heartless make as they're slowly extinguished. He almost feels sorrow for the creatures. The poor beasts were just following his orders, taking off on a kamikaze expedition that was destined to end with their demise. He can nearly smell Sora now, the boy's nobody wielding the keyblades seemingly miles below him. _

_The rain is cold and wet, and the clash of keyblades seems louder than the thunder to his ears. The footfalls pounding against the side of the building moments later seem even louder. He steps closer to the ledge, heart in his throat as ghostly hands coast down his sides, nonexistent lips leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, sweet nothings and whispers of consolation and deceit echoing in his ears._

_When his feet leave the ledge, he leaves behind all memories of the boy he has promised to destroy. _

_For Sora. It's all for Sora._

XxX

Home still smells like honey and drugs, the subtle, distinguishable scent of cocaine and heroine filtering through the house like some horrid disease while the pungent, intolerably sweet smell of honey lurks on the air trying to cover the scent.

Stepping through that door was the hardest part, those familiar hated scents wafting up to greet him the moment he crosses the threshold, making the boy almost long for the acrid stench of the darkness, hope to feel Ansem's presence slide through his mind, oily and slick. He forces himself to move though, feet falling into a steady, determined rhythm, footfalls echoing loudly throughout the silent house.

This was for Sora, he reminded himself. The only reason he had come back to this horrid place was for Sora, and he could live with the sickening smell of honey for just a bit longer. Just a bit.

Stopping at his parents' room was difficult, the steady thumps and moans filtering through the door making him long for the privacy of his old bedroom. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door ever so slightly to peek in, to try to call to them, try to let them know that he's home.

His breath left him in a disgusted whoosh, his upper lip curling in disgust at his mother's hazy drugged look as his father moved over her, the look in his eyes surely matching his wife's.

Still nauseous, he continued up to his room, the room he had hated for as long as he could remember. Each step felt like it was tearing at his heart, ripping metaphorical claws through his ribcage and jerking out the bloody, still beating organ.

Breathing was difficult, and the smell assaulted his nostrils with an intensity that made him weak in the knees. It was like his own private purgatory. The pain and sorrow tearing at him now was destiny's way of allowing him to repent for his sins. God was bullshit. After everything he had been through he could hardly say that he believed in the deity that had everyone so in a fuss.

But _these _sins. These were sins of the heart, sins of the mind, and sins of the soul.

He had betrayed Sora. Jealousy had allowed him to turn his back on his friend and made him turn instead to the very essence of evil.

He had hurt the boy that he had sworn to never hurt. Made the boy he had promised to protect forever and ever cry.

He didn't expect that brooding over the matter would help much. Sora was still going through the island with Kairi faithfully at his side and had hardly even noticed when the tall, silver-haired boy whom he had recently reunited with had stolen away into the darkness. Ran back to his own private hell, just so he wouldn't have to deal with the jealousy that angrily tore through him every time Kairi's hand subtly brushed against Sora's and every time Sora blushed at her expense.

After all, even hell was better than the familiar biting pain that jealousy brought with it; the reminder that he was still the fifteen-year-old who had opened his heart to darkness because his friend had forgotten him in the search for his princess.

He had to shake his head upon entering his old room and clear his thoughts of all the memories. After all, no one could change their memories so there was no use dwelling over them.

And he relinquished himself to his nightmares.

XXX

He woke to the sound of pebbles smacking against the fragile glass of his window. It was familiar to him, and the memories that the sound brought had him blinking rapidly to shake them free. So many memories, this house held so many of them. It was enough to drive him mad.

He considered ignoring the sound, he really did. He thought about just laying back down and letting his nightmares slowly consume him. He thought about it for a whole of three minutes.

He was forced to sit up however as the window gave an alarming wail that told him it was slowly beginning to crack.

He wasn't surprised when he looked down to see Sora's face looking up at him. It was different, glimpsing him from that window in all his scrawny teenage glory. Where was the little boy who had once glanced up at him through grinning blue eyes? Who was this scrawny, plagued teenager whose fatigued eyes were not laughing up at him, but frowning?

The voice that called up to him was deeper, a masculine voice that was certainly not the feminine sweetness of before.

His friend had not been able to fly before. He had not been able to hover a foot from Riku, his small, lithe frame riding the wind like it had been doing this his entire life. He couldn't have crawled through the window and stumbled over large feet into the older boy's chest. There was no hedge, no garden ladder, no tree, nothing. Just a window ledge decorated with fifteen-year-old Christmas lights.

The boy stared at him from his position slumped against the older one's chest, his breath strained and his eyes unsmiling.

The comfort that those blue eyes had once given him now felt like a particularly sharp kick to the ribs. The kind of kick that breaks something without fail.

Sora smiled and drew back from Riku's chest, his unsmiling eyes a dark contrast to the carefree smile that slowly spread its way across the boy's lips.

The boy's chocolate-flavored laugh coats the room with its sweetness as dust bunnies soar upwards and dance through the air like a particularly annoying flock of fireflies. The sweetness in the laugh is boyish, untroubled, riddled with the joy that stems from something deep within his core that the darkness could never hope to steal from him.

Riku's laugh sounds bitter. It is meant to sound as happy and carefree as Sora's but comes out ghostlike and mean, as if he is mocking this gentle boy next to him.

Sora gives him an odd look and slumps to the pillows, a familiar pout flouncing its way across cherry red lips and banishing the look of concern as quickly as it had come.

Sora has always been someone who has had a multitude of expressions at his command, the trusty little pieces of emotion ready to do his every whim, ready to be vanquished the moment they gallop onto the scene, ready to divide and conquer, ready to seduce, ready to destroy…

The smirk that next unfurls across Sora's lips is wicked and dangerous. A look that calls out to every pore of his body. A wicked little sexy smirk that beckons him closer, a look that begs to be devoured, pleading to be eaten alive until the owner of the smirk is screaming in pain, ecstasy, or fear.

Riku is familiar with the look. He had worn the very same look for nearly a year. The look of wanting to be consumed, wanting to be devoured and possessed and be completely someone else's.

On Sora, the look is both ugly and enticing.

But then again, this isn't really Sora at all. Sure, Roxas may be a part of Sora, but in the end, the two are not the same. He's everything Sora is and isn't. Roxas lets himself be angry, he lets himself be frightened and sorrowful. Which is funny, really, considering that nobodies aren't supposed to have emotions.

Riku doesn't consider why Roxas is looking out at him through Sora's eyes, or why a flood of emotion washes through him at the memory of their last encounter, he just lunges at the other boy.

With Roxas, Riku can push him back onto the bed, lips devouring the nododies. He couldn't do that with Sora. He'd have to stand there and talk to the boy, even as the boy did the most absurd things to a candy cane.

With Roxas, he can pant and moan and thrust and hear the most delicious things spill from the blonde nobody's mouth. With Roxas, there is no fear of being rejected. No fear of him running off with Kairi and leaving Riku by himself.

With Roxas, there is no fear.

With Roxas, there is no love.

With Roxas, there is just the knowledge Sora was too good for him.

And he thinks he might like that.

-Fin


End file.
